


Down Boy

by Magpiedance



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Ambiguous Deputy (Far Cry), Brainwashing, Collars, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 03:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14535312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpiedance/pseuds/Magpiedance
Summary: Instead of trying to kill you, Jacob decides to keep you.





	Down Boy

**Author's Note:**

> _I'll stand_
> 
> _kind of pushed kind of bent_
> 
> _on this heavy land_
> 
> _I'll stand for the sake of my friend_
> 
> _I will see him there_
> 
> _-_

You're on the verge of suffocating when Jacob finally comes down your throat.

He slackens his grip on the leash clipped to the collar around your neck, a partially leather choke-chain, slipping his dick out from between your lips and you cough and gasp and hawk up his ejaculate until it's drooling out of your mouth. Out in the courtyard of the veteran's centre; this is a very public shaming.

He strokes your hair and coos to you.

“ _There there_ , that wasn't so bad was it?”

He tips your face up with a single finger under your chin, looking adoringly into your glassy eyes.

“You understand why I have to punish you like this, don't you?” he says. “You - _have_ \- to - learn.”

You took a shot at him when you emerged from the Wolf's Den. Tried to. You didn't have any bullets left. Your finger clicked uselessly on the trigger, over and over, until his large hand closed over yours on the gun and he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“You can't just get away with things because you're my favourite,” he says, crouching down to your level. “But that's okay. That's all done now. You don't have to play at being strong any more, you can just be weak. You have your place, right here, with me.”

He uses his thumb to wipe his come from your chin, then pushes it in between your teeth. You want to bite down, to hurt him, but you can't make yourself. His face projects absolute fondness.

“How did it feel?” He whispers to you. “Seeing the light leave his eyes? Did you feel powerful? Did you feel worthy?”

He cups your face with his hand, and grunts non-committally when you don't reply.

“Not a chatty-Cathy today, are we?”

His hand slides from your face to your neck, covering the collar. One more humiliation.

“I like this on you,” he admits. “A little too much, maybe. Joseph was right about you; you truly are something special.”

You whine pathetically at the praise. His conditioning has you needy for it, desperate, craving, crazy. You no longer believe there's anything beyond his power to make you do. Through supreme force of will you manage to croak out a single word: “ _Staci_.”

Jacob's expression twists into an unhappy sneer.

“That little turncoat deserves nothing. Less than nothing. I don't want to hear you say his name again.”

Desperate, you crawl into Jacob's intimate space. You press your face into his neck, suckling there gently before begging “ _Please. Please...”_

Jacob heaves a sigh and puts his arm around your back.

“I suppose that little rat might still have his uses.”

You close your eyes, curl your fingers into his jacket and kiss his neck again.

“You're going to be good for me, aren't you?” He asks, and you nod. “You're not going to make me hunt you down again, are you?” He asks, and you shake your head. “Because if you do-” he stops.

The implicit threat is entirely unnecessary. You already understand.

“Good.” He says, and he strokes your head.

You are lead indoors by the leash, and you are only grateful that Jacob did not make you crawl.

Jacob instructs one of his men to take Staci out of confinement and put him back through the program.

“And if he survives,” Jacob says, “have him brought back here. I'll deal with him personally.”

Jacob keeps you close for the next few days. You eat when he eats, sleep when he sleeps. He lies on his back and rubs you off with his hand while you ride his cock and moan like you can't help yourself, which you can't.

“That's right, that's good,” he tells you, his tone strangely tender. “You're mine. I'm gonna take such good care of you. Gonna give you what you need.”

He comes inside of you.

You end up asleep draped over his chest with your goddamned leash curled around his fist.

When Staci is brought to the Centre he looks worse off than you've ever seen him. Starved, emaciated, more than half crazy. You have to demean yourself greatly to bargain for his well-being.

Jacob leaves you knelt naked on his bed with your arms tied behind your back and a blindfold over your eyes. He tells you that there's a camera pointed at you, that he'll be able to watch you all day to make sure you don't move. You don't know if he's telling the truth or not but you don't dare move anyhow. Periodically he returns, rearranges you into some lewd new position.

He pushes his fingers into your mouth and you instinctively hollow your cheeks out to suck on them.

Jacob chuckles.

“Oh?” He says. “And what made you so sure it was me? Or are you such a whore you'd suck on anything anyone put in your mouth.”

His tone is light, but you sense a frisson of danger behind it. You think fast.

“You wouldn't let anyone else get this close,” you say. “You'd kill them first.”

You hear Jacob's breathing hitch and you unclench your body.

“You're not wrong,” he purrs, pulling your head down so he can push his stiffening cock into your mouth.

Jacob keeps you blindfolded for a good long while. He seems to get off on keeping you helpless and reliant on him. He hand feeds you your meals, washes your hair (after fucking you in the showers), licks away a dribble of water that escapes your lips when he held a canteen to them.

He's strangely fixated on marking you as his. Your skin is littered with bruises and bite-marks. It gives you an idea.

“I want-” you start, unsure how to continue.

Jacob has you knelt on the floor. He dressed you, so you think you're in his office.

“Yes?” He encourages you, his curiosity clearly piqued.

You make a show of biting your lip, even though you can't tell if he's even looking at you.

“I want you to mark me,” you say, and you don't have to fake the blush that colours your cheeks.

Jacob rubs his thumb over a fresh bite on your shoulder.

“I assume you don't mean like this,” he says.

You shake your head.

“No, I want-” you swallow, baulking at the very idea you're about to propose, “I want it to be permanent. For everyone to know who I belong to.”

Jacob doesn't make a sound, and you're left in a state of abstract terror, wondering if that was too far.

“Yeah,” he says, hoarsely. “Yeah, I like that.”

John arrives at the centre the next day. You aren't allowed to see his work in progress but you can just sense the smug look on his face.

“I wouldn't have taken you for the sentimental type, Jacob,” he teases. Jacob grunts in response, and you would think him unaffected if you didn't know better.

The blindfold is finally removed so that you can see your new tattoo: the initials JS in clean black lines on the inside of your wrist with the silhouette of a sword between the letters. John gives you strict instructions on its care before leaving with a meaningful exchange of glances with his brother.

Jacob, unable to touch the mark itself, presses a surprisingly affectionate kiss to the palm of your hand.

He takes you to his office where he strips you and has you climb up on the desk. There's nothing unusual about that. Then he calls Staci in, and you tense up all over.

He looks better, less thin, and most of his bruises have faded to shades of yellow.

“Show Pratt your new ink, 'Deputy'” Jacob drawls, clearly enjoying himself.

You sit back on your heels and obey, holding your wrist out in front of you.

Staci barely reacts, inured to Jacob's special brand of cruelty. If he's bothered by your nudity, he doesn't show that either.

Jacob drums a finger on the table, then points at Staci, a merciless glint to his eye.

“You should be flattered, it's for your sake – not mine.”

You close your eyes. You should have known better.

“If only they loved me that much.” Jacob's tone takes on a bitter, biting quality. “Not that it matters, the result's the same.”

Jacob stands and unzips his khakis. You respond without thinking to the unspoken command, bending yourself forward onto your elbows.

He takes you roughly while Staci stands there, trembling and looking at a spot somewhere to the left of you. He takes little care for your pleasure, which doesn't stop you from moaning helplessly throughout, though he does go to great lengths to show Staci how utterly broken you are. He makes you beg for more, for harder, for faster. His hand keeps finding the collar around your neck, not squeezing down, not yanking it tight, just touching it. Guaranteeing no one in the room forgets it's there. After he finishes he leans over you, makes sure you feel the weight of him bearing down on you and you are disgusted by how safe it makes you feel. There's a lightness that comes from being controlled by him. Staci cannot look at you.

In stark contrast to his apparent mood Jacob presses the softest kiss to your neck, below your ear and just above the collar. He whispers 'magnificent' into your ear which makes you hate yourself a little more for wanting to hear him say it again, then he pulls himself together. He flips you onto your back and drags Staci over to you.

“I think you should show a little appreciation, for your worthless life, don't you?” He says through teeth clenched into a vicious grin.

Jacob wrenches Staci's hands behind his back and presses his face into your crotch. You think about begging Jacob off but then Staci says “ _Yes,”_ and he sounds wrecked and opens his mouth for you with every sign of gratitude.

Behind him Jacob looks victorious. Staci's eyes shine with grateful tears and even as he brings you off you are left wondering what hell you saved him from that was so much worse than this.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write something else but I moved this up my list in response to happenings elsewhere. I don't want to point fingers all I will say is this: like what you like, feel what you're feeling, that's all valid. But dinnae be dicks to strangers on the internet. That's pure shan. [Down Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NC5Z9snaac) by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.


End file.
